


Private Thoughts

by Peruvian Gypsy (Cat_Moon)



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 17:59:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19323241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Moon/pseuds/Peruvian%20Gypsy
Summary: After the events of the episode "Private Eyes," Jim ponders his influence on Blair's life, and talks it over with his good friend Simon.





	Private Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Tag for the episode "Private Eyes," and knowledge of other episodes will be helpful to the understanding of this story, although you can probably muddle through it without. Warning: this is one of my rare gen stories, no slash whatsoever, in fact quite the contrary. It's a totally different take on Jim and Blair than my usual.

 

_I will be there_

_I will hear you when you call_

_Give you anything at all_

_I will be there, anywhere_

_Like a father to his son..._

 

It was cases like this one -- that ended like this one, that is -- that made every cop know _why_ he'd put on the badge. No matter how hardened you became after years on the force, the kidnapping of a child always got to you. Made you think about...things. Appreciate your own all the more. And that was a good thing, when it all ended happily for everyone, a cause for celebration. Simon Banks was taking his son out on Sunday, maybe to a movie or the amusement park -- as long as it was somewhere Darryl _wanted_ to go. He smiled.

 

Right now though, he was sitting at a table in a downtown pub, across from his friend, detective Jim Ellison. They were the only two remaining, everyone else had already left the informal celebration. They'd downed a bit more than the usual share of beer. It just felt good, to be toasting a child's life. For him because he was all too aware of the old adage: there but for the grace of God... For Jim... well, he suspected Jim was just putting off returning home for as long as possible. No doubt preferably until Sandburg's New Age mom and her psychic boyfriend left. Simon almost felt sorry for Jim... then he remembered some of Darryl's friends that he had to put up with.

 

Jim touched his fresh bottle of beer against Simon's before taking a generous taste. "This one really ended great for everyone." He laughed slightly. "A day for make-ups. Emily's parents back together, Naomi even made up with the snake oil salesman."

 

The friends lapsed into silence, and Simon wondered if Jim too, was asking himself why he'd never run across a good-luck day like this one with his own marriage. There were some things better left alone. He shrugged it off, and changed the topic to one he'd been puzzling over all night.

 

"Speaking of, did you hear that conversation about the wonders of marriage from the Sandburgs? Not exactly the side I expected them to take."

 

"I don't know Simon. Maybe..." Jim paused, and his mood seemed to darken. "I've been wondering about that situation for awhile now. I just wish I knew..."

 

"You think maybe she's changed her tune a bit?"

"Naomi?" Jim grinned. "I doubt it. She's got her faults, god love her. I mean, I like her, and I can't fault the way Blair turned out. But she's selectively blind in some areas."

 

"And Blair's inherited that blindness." A nod. "But can you blame them? What do you want him to say -- 'I'm deeply scarred because I never had a dad?'"

 

"I never said that. It's just that I'm left to pick up the pieces."

 

"Are you afraid Sandburg thinks of you as a father figure?" Simon asked with a small smile.

 

"No. You fit that bill better than me." The remark earned Jim an overly-dramatic scowl. "But it's..." he trailed off, seemingly frustrated at his inability -- and perhaps unwillingness -- to explain himself. He took another swallow of beer. "It's a trust thing. As much as he's always on me to open up with myself, he's a closed book."

 

Simon nearly spit out his mouthful of beer. "Sandburg? A closed book?!"

 

"Don't let him fool you, Simon. All that stuff he lets you think you're getting from him is all surface. You think _I'm_ hard to get close to. He let's you close, but not _in_.

 

"So do a lot of us, Jim. I just don't get what's bugging you about it." And Sandburg wasn't his favorite topic under the best of circumstances, but he knew his friend well enough to sense that this was something Jim needed to talk out. The beer loosening his tongue, the situation, were perfect and rare opportunities.

 

"I used to be afraid he'd get tired of studying an uncooperative Sentinel and pull up stakes for places elsewhere. I'm not anymore. But I'm just not sure that that's a...good thing."

 

Simon shook his head. "You've been hanging around Sandburg too long, you're starting to make as much sense as he usually does. I have no idea what you're talking about."

 

"Simon, you know that before he met me the worst thing he had to deal with was a paper cut. Now he's been kidnapped, and beaten up, almost killed, and seeing dead bodies has become an everyday routine."

 

"Yeah...?" Simon encouraged, being sure the look on his face conveyed his continued confusion at the point behind the conversation.

 

"He's never had a _permanent_ male influence in his life until now, right? Now I'm it. I'm just not sure...I should be."

 

"Because of the danger you think you're putting him in?" Simon ventured, hoping to have finally gotten the gist of things.

 

"Not exactly." Jim sighed. "I just hate to see him get...hard. I know what I've said about toughening him up, making him go through the academy. But he didn't choose to be a cop, he chose to be an anthropologist. Our job changes us, you know that. You lose your innocence first. Then pretty soon you build up a resistance against all the violence and horror you see every day. You have to, to stay sane. I'm seeing the change in him already. He's more...quiet, serious. His eyes are a little more knowing. He's more suspicious. I'm just wondering if I have the right to do that."

 

Simon paused before answering, thinking carefully. "He's also gained more self-confidence, learned to take care of himself. Matured. And he _is_ an adult, you owe him the right to make his own decisions. Correct?"

 

"But is it his _own_ decision?" Jim countered. "Or is it based on some crazy desire to prove to me that my first assessment of him was wrong. Or to live up to some standard he thinks I've set?"

 

"Oh, I get it. I'm the father figure, and you've set yourself up as hero worship figure."

 

"Tell me I'm way off base here then,” Jim said. Simon didn't, and after a period of silence, Jim spoke again, very quietly. "Danny died."

 

The light bulb dawned. Jim rarely let go of the guilt he carried, just buried it inside after a brief period of self-pity. "So that's what this is all about." He leaned forward, putting his hand on Jim's arm. "Jim, that wasn't your fault."

 

"I was his Big Brother. I influenced him. If--"

 

"You know what? All I can say is, I ask myself the same kinds of questions every day, about Darryl. Am I doing the right thing? Should I be more protective, or let him make his own way? If I tried to force him into a direction he didn't want to go, he'd only resent me in the end -- and he wouldn't listen anyway. All I can do is try to prepare him for the world. You do the best you can...and pray a lot."

 

"Yeah...I guess you're right." Jim didn't sound entirely convinced, or like he wanted to be. "But while he's hanging with me, he's _my_ responsibility. I'm the expert, he's the fish out of water here. And he relies on me. How do I just turn it off, say, 'no problem, it's his decision'?"

 

"And I'm responsible for my son."

 

"That's not the same thing, Simon, you're not dragging him along to crime scenes every day!"

 

"Yeah, like you've ever had to _drag_ him."

 

"What about last time Naomi was here?" Jim countered. "Blair didn't want to go along with the plan. I kept after him. And when Naomi unwittingly pushed him into it -- I was glad." He hung his head.

There, now don't you feel better that you've got that off your conscience," Simon said with a hint of exasperated sarcasm.

 

"It wasn't the first or last time he's balked at something. I always bully him into it."

 

"So stop."

 

"Give me credit here, Simon, I know myself well enough to know I won't. When it's important, to put scum behind bars where they can't hurt anyone else..."

 

"So now you're saying you're using Sandburg."

 

"Thanks for bringing that gem up, Simon, I hadn't thought of it from that angle yet."

 

"Just like he's using you, to get his doctorate."

 

Jim glanced up from his beer. "No," he said sharply. "Not anymore."

 

"Oh, sorry. That would be the movie and book rights he's holding out for now."

 

Anger turned Jim's tone harsh. "Last year, when you and Darryl were lost in Peru and we didn't know if you were alive or dead, Blair _insisted_ on coming along to help find you. He said you were _his_ friends too. He'd had this once-in-a-lifetime offer from his mentor at the University, a year in Borneo. When we got back he turned it down...to stay and help me. Not for movie rights. For friendship." He smiled at the memory.

 

"Look Jim, I'm only trying to play devil's advocate here. I didn't say he wasn't a good kid." Simon took off his glasses and wiped them with a napkin. "We _all_ affect and influence the people we come into contact with in our lives, Jim. Not completely, and not solely. The way I see it, from a purely observer standpoint, is that you've affected _each other_ \-- for the better." He threw the wadded up paper napkin at his friend. "So why don't you give up and stop fighting it."

 

"That's what you see? From your purely objective viewpoint." There was a teasing smile in Jim's tone.

 

"Um hum."

 

"Wanna know what _I_ see here? About your feelings on the subject of Blair..."

 

Simon leaned forward menacingly, knowing when he was being set up. "Did I mention I get to air my views because I'm your Captain? Your boss?"

 

"Why don't you just give up and stop fighting it?" Jim tossed back with a grin, leaning away from the table to stretch. "You think a lot of him too."

 

"Did I mention I'm in charge of your paycheck?"

 

Jim laughed this time. "Like I'm gonna need it once Sandburg's movie comes out and I'm sitting pretty on the royalties?"

 

"I take back what I said -- about Sandburg affecting you for the better. It's definitely the worse!"

 

Jim's demeanor became serious again. "I just hope...that I can give him something. Like Jack did for me, you know? That he'll be around for a long time after I'm gone, and think back on me as a good man, who taught him something."

 

"I'm sure he will," Simon agreed, uncomfortable with the emotional tone of the sentiment. After a moment's pause, he pulled Jim's nearly-empty beer bottle away from him. "You've had enough of this," he decreed, and stood up from the table. "We both have. Time to face the world again."

 

Jim stood too, digging some bills out of his pocket to pay. "Cab, or walk?"

 

"I think we could both use a walk."

 

They walked out into the sunlight, both squinting after the darkness of the pub. Simon pulled out his sunglasses, and waited while Jim did the same.

 

_"I just hope...that I can give him something. Like Jack did for me, you know? That he'll be around for a long time after I'm gone, and think back on me as a good man, who taught him something."_

 

Simon also hoped Jim was right. But...not so much for the kid's sake.

 

For Jim's.

 

_Time moves quickly as the years go by_

_All these moments slip away_

_when I'm gone and life will carry on_

_You will know some way_

_I will be there..._

 

\--”I Will Be There,” by Paul Stanley

 

The end.

 

3/27/97

 


End file.
